


Tears

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [45]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: “I’m your rock and roll joan of arcThe queen of broken heartsI’m here to save the world, but who will save Supergirl?What if I’m weak and I need you tonight?I hate itI hate it when you see me cry”--Halestorm “Hate It When You See Me Cry”The war is over, but the fight to clean up the wizarding world still happens one Auror operation at a time. When the Auror Corp needs a curse breaker to dispel the horror surrounding the Darthmouth Manor, it might just be the thing to get Hermione to sit down with some of her own demons.“Harry.”“I’m here, Hermione,” Harry said, “Always.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter
Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/579316
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	1. Supergirl

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, it seems like I’m on a “ignore my WIP” spree. I have abandoned no fic, but I am taking the time to parse through my other ideas and letting my writing develop and change. There is a second part, a sequel to this that will be on the way!
> 
> This is also being posted over on[ Fanatic Musings](%E2%80%9Dwww.fanaticmusings.com%E2%80%9D), so don't freak out if you see it there too!

“Supergirl?” Harry called across the musty old basement as he surveyed it. 

Other than the enchanted wards, cobwebs, and very complex system of cursed sigils and wards, there had been nothing. It was a thing now that they were free of the war and working in the same department, to Harry’s surprise. A well-deserved nickname after the hell they had gone through separately and together. He wasn’t sure if anyone could ever save the day quite the way Hermione could, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted anyone else to either.

Tonight had been harder than either of them had imagined it would be. Inferi, traps, and so on made it a battle to get down the stairs into the basement and made him think that someone had skipped a few debriefings about how to clear building tied to the remnants of Voldemort’s followers. They were supposed to have another curse breaker, but after the head of the Curse Breaker Auxiliary, the CBA, had fully reviewed the case, Hermione was assigned to the case and the field excursion. 

A ripple went through the air and he turned around to see Hermione standing just a few paces away from him in full sight of the stairway where his partner waited. A cage of hazy light appeared in front of her and dispersed peeling away the sight of solid ground in a neat circle.

His stomach roiled. 

The putrid stench of corpses and stagnate blood filled the air and he stepped back from the edge as it became clear that the entire basement had been under and illusion. Hermione stood over a pile of body parts staring down at the heap thrown together like rubbish and slowly sinking, draining into the dark pool. Two faces stuck out to him, somehow not obscured by the blood on their faces or their contorted expressions. Though their faces were contorted in agony, they had the same brown hue, the woman had Hermione’s nose, the man had her eyes.

It couldn’t be. He prayed to every god and dead wizard, but no one alive or dead would change the truth.

This had to be wrong. Hermione had lunch with them earlier that day. After everything she’d done to protect them and how long and hard she had begged for their forgiveness for hiding the war from them, for sending them away and tampering with their memories, after everything they’d been through this couldn’t be happening. 

They couldn't be dead.

He adjusted his glasses praying that he was wrong, but there was no mistaking those faces. Wedged between body parts, there was their mangled corpse with her father's eyes and a severed head with her mother's face.

“Hermione,” Harry called and slipped a hand into hers.

Her wand was probably still warm in her left hand. Her hair was free from the ribbon she’d tied it up with. She was bleeding, but she continued to just look down at the bodies in silence. Her hair was as wild as it was back in their Hogwarts days from the battle on the way down the stairs. Her expression was dark and unreadable in the shadow beneath her missed hair and the lack of light in the room.

"Auror Potter,” Hermione said under the wild bit of hair that covered her face, “Has the rest of the manor been searched?”

“Hermione--”

“Has the rest of the manor been searched?”

He swallowed, “Yes. We… actually need you upstairs. There’s a net of curses there, we think it’s a bunker of some sort.”

She turned from him, her face impassive, a cool sense of duty set in her shoulders as her protective robes fluttered behind her. Harry followed her back up the stairs past Valic and down the hall towards the stairs that would lead to the second floor but felt the moment that something in the air changed. She’d seen, heard, or felt something that set her on edge. 

Her shoulders tensed and something went up between them and spread as a low angry voice hissed.

“Filthy mudblood!”

A spell exploded where she had once been, and she turned in a flurry of robes and magic. Whatever her spell was, it cut through the air and around the next blast that broke across the tail of her robes and skirted around a familiar-looking shield of light behind her. The hall went silent as Harry hurried forward only to be stopped by an invisible wall. Whoever she dueled was good, casting hexes and jinxes at her that glanced off and broke against the protections on her robes and the wall of light behind her.

He poked and prodded the ward that kept him back but hissed as it did not so much as wiggle. He had no idea what she’d done or how it worked and it was far more advanced than anything he’d studied during his training. It seemed that her interest in defensive magic had only grown since that year on the run.

He really had to keep her out of the library or get help her find a place where she could have her own..

“Hermione!”

She was pushed back against the ward behind her, seemingly pinned and Harry cast every spell he knew against the ward between them as she whipped her wand and blocked another slew of hexes. He heard someone grunt as something landed and Hermione fought off the next few spells. 

His heart hammered. She was a civilian technically. Hermione could handle herself, but she shouldn’t have to. There were three teams of Aurors in the area, but where the hell were they now?

“Avada--”

His heart lunged, but the green light never came. Instead, a burst of white light exploded from Hermione’s wand and spiraled through the air like a canon. A body thumped against the far wall, and before he heard it fall, Hermione whipped and twirled her wand. Someone groaned as a body floated over her head towards where the other three Death Eaters should have been held. She called a wand across the room into her hand and she looked around, a pulse of white light washed through the house, then blue, and gold before she relaxed with a sigh. 

“Hermione,” Harry called and she turned to look at him. 

Her lips twitched as she dispelled the ward between them. He walked to her quickly as Valic came up behind him nervously. 

“Are you alright?’

She nodded then looked to where several members of the Auror corp were frozen and suspended in the air, including Evanston, the one who had been in charge of checking if the house was clear, and the rest of Harry’s team. The Head Auror, Joyce, came down the hallway, eyes widened and furious at the scene.

“Full-Body Bind?” Harry asked taking the wand she’d taken from the Death Eater from her hand.

“A hex inlaid in the wards,” she said twirling her wand and conjuring figures that he didn’t understand, “Would have remained dormant if they had fully searched the house and secured it.”

“The revealing spell was cast,” Harry frowned, “How did we not find that guy?”

“It doesn’t work on unplottable areas,” she said, “Or Fidelius Charms. This manor is a fortress, not your typical house.”

He frowned, “Did you say unplottable? Like Azkaban? You can do that inside of a house?”

“You can,” she said, “It’s quite common in manors like this with lots of secrets. I briefed Joyce and Evanston on the possibility of it and the fact that the wards of this manor were far more complex than they initially thought.”

Harry groaned and glowered at Joyce who remained behind another ward and other members of the Auror corp came out behind him, “Wish he would have passed that along…”

The figures she conjured shifted and another wash of light rushed through the room. The Aurors fell out of their frozen places in the air with a hard thump on the ground and groaned. They looked up and around. While the struggled to their feet, Hermione continued to work on the projected sigils.

“Search implies that you look, Evanston,” she said without looking up as he marched over to them furious and flushed. Harry took a step forward between them.

“We followed procedure--”

“By ignoring my explicit advice that this manor is a magical fortress? _ ”  _ She asked, “Given a moment’s more time, you would have all been dead.”

“It was one man! We would have had it covered--”

“Before or after he killed me?” Hermione asked and continued to manipulate the sigils in front of her. 

He grit his teeth as Hermione turned away ignoring Evanston. Then, Harry realized that he was furious _. _ After the war and death, it had been a bit of a struggle to keep track of his emotions sometimes. They felt distant sometimes and then all too real.

It was a cold fury filling him now, the kind that had dogged his steps sometimes during the war and had nearly made him a murderer. It often came with thoughts of Hermione screaming and Bellatrix’s wild cackling.

“Covered? In a full-body bind and suspension?” Harry asked, and Evanston’s eyes widened. 

“You weren’t caught!”

“I was in the basement escorting our curse breaker, per protocol.”

“Without Valic?” Evanston hissed. 

“Valic took point on the staircase,” Harry said and jerked his thumb back at the man who came up behind him, “Per protocol.” 

He grit his teeth seething as the rest of the Aurors remained silent and Joyce turned to them.

“Cursebreaker,” Joyce started, the head Auror of the alpha team, “You were supposed to--”

Hermione whirled on him, her eyes glowing golden in the dim room as the sigils continued to move and grow around her head in complex configurations that Harry couldn’t make any sense of. She was glorious.

“You would have been dead,” Hermione said, “Had I been given the chance, I would have simply escaped with Auror Potter and Valic, per protocol.”

Someone gasped, and Joyce shut his mouth. It was like this whenever they brought her or any other curse breaker into the field, but especially Hermione. There had always been some contention between Aurors and the auxiliary unit, but none so much as the curse breakers who could have been Aurors if they simply went through a bit more training.

In some ways, Harry wished that he’d had more curse breaker training under his belt as it would come in handy during raids like this.

For whatever reason, Joyce liked to disregard Hermione’s, and all other curse breakers, notes on the case and professional opinion as he was more experienced. Hermione thought it was more because she was a young woman, a young black woman at that since he listened to Harry, half-Indian Harry, only slightly more, but Harry believed that it was because Hermione had gone back to school and worked her way through the department rather than taking Kingsley’s leg up into the Auror Corp.

It was as backward as so many things in the wizarding world.

The decision to work her way up had called to question her place in the war as the brains and saving grace of Harry’s life, but Hermione had ignored the hearsay with all the grace and dignity of a grown woman who had stared death in the face right alongside him. Honestly, they should have been partners, but Hermione wasn’t interested in being an Auror. Harry’s partner, Valic, was an older Auror who often just ducked his head and hoped that Harry’s name would keep them off the more serious cases. It had for the last two years, but that probationary period was going to end soon now that Valic was talking retirement and Harry was getting antsy sitting at the desk and going on pointless stakeouts.

A collection of sigils floated to Joyce, and he glared at them. 

“Per protocol, the containment wards are keyed to you, Deputy Auror,” Hermione said. It was then that Harry noticed that the containment wards around the three Death Eaters as not Auror standard. 

The glow in her eyes vanished and another wave of light went through the floorboards. He felt something rippled through the air and a long cabinet appeared behind her and opened. Another doorway appeared on the other side of the hall. Harry smiled lightly as Hermione walked towards the staircase and waited just at the foot of them. 

“Will Auror Potter continue to escort me, or will it be someone else?”

“Valic, escort her. Report, Potter.”

Valic scurried after Hermione and led her up the stairs as Joyce walked to him. He winced at the disgruntled looking Aurors behind him and the ones who simply shook their heads. He wanted to tell them that they could speak up if they were so sick of the power games, but that had fallen as flat as his complaints about Joyce’s leadership for the last two years.

“The basement is open. Curses cleared. I estimate thirty bodies, two confirmed to be Muggle. Grand Cursebreak Granger hypothesizes that there was a ritual used to restore and strengthen the wards of the manor and perhaps attempt to open a gate to Limbo, and--”

“Potter,” he cut him off and Harry had a feeling that he was in for another long conversation with Kingsley in the future about the Auror corp, “Need I remind you that she is a consultant, not an Auror.”

“You called it clear,” Harry replied, “I followed protocol, and as a consultant shouldn’t her consultation be heeded?”

His eyes darkened and someone nearby hissed. He’d probably be written up for insubordination, but he didn’t care. 

If Joyce would take his ego out of the equation, there was a chance that Hermione’s parents wouldn’t be dead and they would all have an easier time of it.

“And where in protocol does it say that a civilian has the right to reprimand the Aurors working the case? Let alone a subordinate reprimanding their superior?”

“I--”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you did your job properly,” Hermione said coming back down the stairs after Valic. “And likely, Auror Potter wouldn’t have to if you would do your job properly.”

Joyce whirled on her, “Your presence is only tolerated--”

“Because I am highly trained, competent and wicked good at what I do,” Hermione said as she reviewed a projection of light in front of her, “The wards are open. Might I suggest that you get the library staff to transport the books upstairs? I’ve broken the hexes on them and contained them, but they should not remain in this house. The other spaces should be inspected, but they have been opened. I would have to be escorted in, per protocol, to see if there are any curses at work there.”

Joyce glared back at Harry, “This is all going in the report.”

“I will be sure to be as thorough as always in mine,” Harry replied, and Joyce turned. 

He dismissed Hermione out of hand, “Valic, Potter, escort the curse breaker back to the Ministry.”

Harry sighed and shook his head before gesturing to the front door, “Shall we, Grand Cursebreaker Granger?”

“Of course, Auror Potter.”

Valic followed behind her in standard escorting formation out of the manor and outside of the anti-apparition barrier. 

“For what it’s worth,” Harry said as they stepped beyond its bounds and nodded at the Aurors watching for escape attempts and guarding the perimeter, “You are brilliant.”

She smiled at him, “Thank you.”

“But the next time you draw up a ward to keep me safe, make sure you’re on the same side as me,” Harry said and offered his elbow, “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Hermione nodded, “I’ll take that under advisement… and I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”


	2. Rock And Roll Joan of Arc

Harry sat at his desk and did his best not to kick himself as he gathered the paperwork. She wasn’t in her office today as he expected. Joyce had the bodies examined for weeks before releasing the bodies to whatever families they could manage. There had been twenty-nine bodies in the basement and they were all Muggles with magical children, including Hermione’s parents.

As if they hadn’t lost enough, the universe was still taking the mickey out of them. 

He stood from his desk with the paperwork that she would need to make preparations and claim the bodies and cleared his schedule. Joyce had dumped a tall stack of paperwork on his desk in spite, but bereavement was something that the DMLE took seriously and Harry took full advantage of it. As an auxiliary to Hermione’s life, and her wizarding point of contact, he was allowed two weeks. He had no doubt that Hermione would get a month without a problem. He exited the office and got on the lift to see Hermione as the door opened. 

“Hermione,” he greeted. 

She smiled at him, “Hello, Harry. I was just coming to see you.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come in.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry…. I take it that it’s been finalized.”

He nodded, “I’ll escort you to the Muggle Affairs department.”

“I know how to get there,” she said, holding out a trembling hand. 

Her eyes were resolute even as her lips twitched and she looked almost ready to start sobbing. Well, as close to it as Hermione had ever come in front of him since fifth year.

“You aren’t doing this alone.”

Hermione met his gaze and she twined an arm around his pressing her face into his bicep.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

He twined their fingers together as the lift rattled to the proper floor. There waiting was Draco, to Harry’s surprise. He hadn’t thought that Draco would be able to come back, though he desperately hoped so. He could be strong enough to support Hermione but keeping her grounded was something else entirely. 

He and Draco had been dating for almost as long as he had been an Auror. The first thing that Harry had done was to make sure that Hermione and Draco could get along. It had taken one dinner at Grimmauld, a real conversation about who they were, who they had been, and who they meant to be for the two to shake hands and agree that Hermione could castrate Draco if he ever hurt Harry. 

_ I would have thought you would be a little more creative.  _

_ She smiled, That’s step one. I haven’t told you about two through sixty. _

Draco looked up and stood. Before Draco could say anything, he felt Hermione tense beside him. He looked at her as her lips lifted into a smile. 

“Not exactly where I would have thought you’d be, Malfoy.”

Draco looked between them and then searched her face before deciding something. He gestured ahead of him, and Hermione didn’t move. They seemed to speak silently between one another before Hermione lowered her head and walked forward to the clerk’s desk. The bored-looking man looked up. 

“Can I help you?”

“I am here to claim my parents’ bodies,” Hermione said softly. 

He looked up at her, then Harry, then Draco who Harry could tell was about to explode about hurrying it up and at least pretending that he knew what empathy was. The man pulled out forms. 

“I’ll need your formal notice.”

Harry offered him the collection of paperwork and waited quietly as he checked it and pulled out the appropriate forms. 

“Henry and Malaika Granger, right?”

Hermione nodded. 

“We’ll need you to choose a funeral home from this list and such for them. As their deaths were involved in an extreme case, the Ministry has designated the burial grounds. Magically warded. Wizards only. Given the--”

“I will blow this place to hell,” Hermione said through gritted teeth. Harry felt the crackle of energy around her and his eyes widened. 

He heard Draco’s jaw pop and felt his knuckles to the same as he clenched his fist.

“Excuse you?” The clerk asked.

“I will blow this building, you, and whatever idiot decided this was a good idea straight to hell.  I will not have my parents’ burial dictated to me!”

“There is no--” He broke off as she leaned over the table, all five feet of her made the young man pale.

“Let me be clear,” Hermione growled, “You will call whoever you have to. Your supervisor, his supervisor, the Minister himself and get this designation removed. My parents died on the ministry’s watch and they and everyone who has ever loved them will not be punished for your ineptitude. Do you understand?”

He nodded shakily.

“Say you understand.”

“I--I understand.”

“Call. Now.”

He turned and grabbed the phone to dial someone on a higher level. It took less than ten minutes for Jacobson, the Head Auror, and Joyce on the case to come down and try to explain the why. He imagined that whatever they were going to say had worked for several weeping muggle-born witches and wizards who had cut most ties with their life before Hogwarts, but Hermione’s parents hadn’t even been deemed missing when they found them. She’d spoken to them the morning before the raid and had lunch with them on their last day alive. 

She was also Hermione Granger and not to be trifled with. 

He wasn’t even sure that he could calm her down if they didn’t do something to fix this.

“Potter, what are you doing here?” Jacobson asked before turning his eyes on Hermione, “And you, curse breaker?”

“It’s Grand Cursebreaker, Head Auror Jacobson, and I am here to claim the bodies of my parents.”

Their eyes widened, “You--”

“But since you are here, you can explain to me why the DMLE feels the need to punish the surviving children of the murdered --”

“Now, hold on--”

“-- with this insipid idea that the Ministry will pay for funerals but dictate the details and bar access to whomever the grieving deems necessary to invite!”

“You are compro--”

“They are my parents, you imbecile. Of course, I am compromised. Of course, I am emotional and you think that telling me that the people who loved and cherished my parents, the people who were my family and life long before this godforsaken Ministry gave a damn about me, aren’t allowed to grieve properly is a good idea because of what?”

“Inviting Muggles onto a Wizarding graveyard--”

“Hermione,” Harry tried but she wasn’t listening stepping closer, glaring up at him as lightning crackled around her extended finger. 

“You listen to me, you slavering idiot! I and every other relative of the victims deserve the right to invite whomever to grieve their loss. They should not be punished because of the Ministry’s inability to capture criminals and centuries of complacency!”

Joyce grit his teeth, “That isn’t a decision you can make, curse breaker.”

Harry felt it before Joyce had even pulled out his wand let alone Jacobson, their wands went up in flames and the shadow in the room shimmered as Hermione shrieked in some collection of words that Harry couldn’t understand. Whether they were words to a spell or just another language, he couldn’t know. He felt the magic in them rocketing through the room and shaking them. He even swore she was floating slightly off the ground.

Draco’s eyes widened, and his hands fell on her shoulders, “Hermione, Golden Girl, you have to calm down.”

Glass exploded in the room and papers went flying. The receptionist shrieked and dove under his desk as her screeching stopped, eyes wide and glowing as the wind in the office continued to rage. 

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, taking her gently by the arms, “Please, Supergirl, you have to calm down.”

At this rate, she was going to bring the entire building down on their heads, or the entire Auror Corp and he had had enough escaping from the Ministry for a lifetime. The door opened as Kingsley and a group of Aurors came in. 

“Contain her!” Joyce hissed.

Someone’s wand went flying as Harry tried to calm her down and defend her. Hermione screeched, pressing her hands to her temples as the windows shattered and the building began to shake. The warning wards flashed bright red and angry as if they were about to break around them.

“Hermione!” Harry said, “You have to calm down. It’s going to be okay.”

Draco pulled her close, a hand on her head, “It’s going to be okay, Hermione. You’ll bury them properly, but if you destroy the Ministry, they won’t ever be put to rest.”

The words seemed to get through to her, and she stilled in his arms.

“They won’t ever be put to rest,” she panted, her breath stuttering in her chest as the wind died down and the shaking eased around them. She sagged against him, panting, her shoulders shaking in his arms as he rubbed her back and looked at Harry. 

Harry had no answer for what the hell just happened. It had never happened before.

He continued to speak to her in a low tone as Kingsley approached them and the Aurors looked at her horrified. 

“Harry,” Kingsley began, “What is going on?”

“Hermione’s parents were victims of the Darthmouth case,” Harry said, “And the DMLE has put a burial restriction on the victims: wizarding burial grounds.”

Kingsley’s eyes widened and drifted to where Hermione was catching her breath in Draco’s arms as he spoke to her. She clenched her hands in his robes. 

“No one else had an issue with it,” Joyce said. 

Hermione stiffened, but Draco tightened his hold and kept her against him speaking to her again in low tones and rubbing her back before lightning crackled again.

“Deputy Auror Joyce,” Kingsley said, “While I understand that you did not exceed expectations at Deescalation or Victim Communications, you are at least trained in both. Apparently, you should be retrained.”

Joyce flinched, and he turned his eyes on Jacobson, “We will have words about it later, Jacobson. For now, what is the reasoning of such an order?”

Harry listened to the explanation and knew something was wrong even as he began to explain it. The only time Muggles would have to be entombed at a wizarding cemetery was if their bodies had been magically compromised and would need to be contained in a certain manner because the curse persisted past the death of the person. 

None of the bodies exuded any sort of cursed energy. They were simply dead. 

“Grand Cursebreaker Granger,” Kingsley began, “Is what they say accurate? I understand you were there.”

She took a shuddering breath and spoke clearly despite being folded into Draco’s arms. 

“The Darthmouth Manor is protected by soul wards, like most ancient or noble houses. Rather than being keyed to living descendants, the Darthmouth Manor and the entire estate rely on sacrifices.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he looked at Joyce and Jacobson. 

“That isn’t what you said in the briefing.”

“I hypothesized that it was a blood ritual,” Hermione said, “Based on the information you had given me. Upon seeing the basement, as I wrote in my report, it was clear that the ritual was actually a Volcrux ritual to fuel the estate’s wards.”

She trembled, “If you had read my report, Deputy Auror, Head Auror, you would know that the Darthmouths have used that same ritual, the same curse, to fuel the wards from the first time they were established. If you had read my report, you would know that such rituals pull the souls from victims and convert them into pure magic. You would know that there is no afterlife for the victims and exhuming their bodies in a wizarding graveyard is meaningless other than to ease the process for the Ministry.”

Harry winced as she turned from Draco, eyes furious and shoulder tense. 

“If you have cared to do anything but be done with the case and cover up your rather embarrassing litany of mistakes on it, then you would know all of this!” She grit her teeth advancing on him, “If you had listened to me in the first place if you had simply put aside your pride and arrogance, they would all still be alive as Volcrux rituals can only be done when the moon hits its apex under a waxing moon.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and they all looked at Joyce who flushed.

“What are you--”

“Did I or did I not tell you that such rituals, blood or soul, were done under the waxing moon?”

“You--”

“And did I not tell you that striking before moonrise was preferable to after?”

“You--”

“Answer the question,” Kingsley said.

Joyce flinched, “It may have been in an appendix of her notes, but that was pure speculation.”

“Deputy Auror,” Kingsley cut in, “Not only does it seem that you have thoroughly mishandled a case, but effectually aided in the completion of a very dark ritual that resulted in the death of twenty-nine British citizens.”

“British Muggle citizens,” Joyce hissed, “And there was no proof that any of her speculations were accurate. Striking at night caught them off guard--”

“With fully reestablished wards,” Harry cut in glaring at him.

“I followed protocol!” Joyce said.

“You will be placed under an Internal Affairs Investigation,” Kingsley said, “You will be placed on house arrest.”

“But--”

“Until the investigation is complete,” Kingsley said, “Your punishment will be determined based on what they find. As for this, Grand Cursebreaker Granger’s analysis will be verified. Pending that, the bodies will be exhumed in the proper manner.”

He looked at Jacobson, “That goes for you as well.”

He paled, and Harry had the distinct feeling that there was going to be a hell of a backlash from this. He was sure that he was just now getting them to look at him less like a lucky kid or some sort of genius.

“Auror Potter, Lord Malfoy, if you could escort Grand Cursebreaker Granger home. Consider your bereavement leave extended. The both of you. If the IA has need of you, an owl will be sent.”

Harry lowered his head, “Of course, Minister.”

He looked at Hermione, “Though it will mean very little to you now, you have my deepest apologies, Hermione.”

She looked up at him. 

“This is not the Ministry or the world the war was fought for. If you find yourself unwilling to fight for it any longer, you will have my full support.”

Hermione looked at him hopelessly but nodded. Draco turned her gently and lead her to the lift as Harry remained behind to speak to Kingsley. 

“Take care of her, Potter,” Kingsley said, “I should think you of all people might know what she is experiencing right now.”

“I will,” he said, “Uhm… Minister, about…”

He gestured around the room and the still flashing wards.

Kingsley waved him off, “The Ministry can handle a bit of repair.”

Harry nodded and climbed into the lift. It was pure luck that it took them to the right floor. They stepped into a fireplace and went to Grimmauld Place. She was quiet as they led her inside. Harry stayed with her in the living room as she stared into nothing. 

“Why don’t you stay with me for a while?” Harry said. 

Hermione said nothing as Draco came back with a blanket to wrap around her and a mug of tea for her. Draco sat on her other side. They sat in quiet for as long as she needed, and Harry hoped that she would lean on him the way he always leaned on her.


	3. Queen Of Broken Hearts

Hermione testified in every case with an air of professional detachment that had Harry’s heart hurting. She took him up on his offer to stay with him during the bereavement period and Draco stayed over just as long, but they hardly exchanged any words in all that time.

When the case was all over, Hermione and every other child of the victims was sent a letter telling them that they could claim their parents and lay them to rest without any restrictions. It would all be covered by the Ministry no matter what they wanted to do for the victims. Soon after that, she began receiving letters of thanks from the other people who had lost their parents. 

Some of them had listed them missing with Muggle authorities months ago. Some of them had only been suffering through the uncertainty for a week, but they were all grateful that they could bury their parents properly.

He didn’t know what Hermione was made of. He always figured it was gold, but he was sure that was just her heart. The rest of her was made of something much harder. She managed to write their obituaries, organize a beautiful funeral, to hug and greet everyone who came and answer their questions. 

_ Why is it a closed casket? _

_ They wouldn’t want the people of their lives to remember them that way, _ Hermione said politely to an uncle,  _ Thank you for coming. _

He didn’t know what it took for her not to lean on either Draco or Harry, not once, during it all even though they were there for every part. He didn’t know what kind of strength it took to stand at the podium during the service and tell a story about her parents trying to make playing fairy princess logical so that their daughter wouldn’t be left out of playing with other children. 

“They were my bridges before I learned to build my own,” she said, “I won’t hear their wisdom anymore or have them, but I’d like to think that they’ll be watching over me. I have the bridges they left me and every bright memory of them, and I’ll continue to build bridges forward for myself because that’s what they’d want be to do: with or without my fairy wand.”

Harry wiped his own eyes unable to watch Hermione practically fall apart at the podium with such a composed face. Draco held his hand and sat beside him a silent bastion of strength that Harry so desperately needed to support Hermione. He’d met the Grangers just once, but he knew enough about them from the long nights shivering in the tent and talking, really talking, about the lives they’d led before. The lives they could have led if everything hadn’t been derailed. Their hopes for the future. 

It had been in those cold nights that he’d admitted to her that he fancied Draco and she told him that she couldn’t fancy Ronald after fifth year. They had sat across the table from their paltry rations and the fish they’d managed to catch in the stream and talked about everything. 

Now here they were, war over and still losing their dreams to an ever-evolving darkness.

He and Draco rode with her to the cemetery and stood at her side as the minister said a blessing over the graves. Together, they watched both caskets sink into the ground without shedding a tear in her plain black dress. 

He couldn’t fathom what it took to go to the repass and listen to people talk about her parents, couldn’t imagine what it took to settle their affairs. The house was paid for and her parents didn’t have any debts. They had insurance policies naming Hermione as the beneficiary leaving her enough Muggle money to live on for a while if she chose. 

She sold their cars first. Harry was with her when she stood in the driveway and decided to list the house for rent and stash all the proceeds into funds in the Muggle world until she found a charity of some sort to donate it to. 

“I can’t live here anymore,” she said resolutely.

“You can live with me for as long as you need.”

“Draco would be furious if I disrupt your sex life any longer.”

“Draco agrees with me.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He had no idea what it took to say that or pack up all of their belongings, going from room to room and seeing the ghosts of her past alone. He had respected her wish to at least pack up everything on her own, but he and Draco returned every evening to pick her up, get her out of the house for meals, and take her back to Grimmauld Place.

God, he hoped the others had someone to do this for them. 

Draco had been a good sport about it, keeping the words he wanted to say behind his perfectly straight teeth until they were alone and he was furious _. _

_ That woman and her blood pride! _

Harry agreed but knew that part of Hermione’s need to show a brave face was his fault. He’d only been able to cry bitter, self-loathing tears in Draco’s arms. God, he hated it. Hated that she felt she couldn’t show it, that even a moment to just cry would be too much, too selfish, too cruel to those that had no chance to . 

_ As soon as we get a chance, I am tying that woman to a bed for at least a week. _

He could have kissed him for it as they moved the boxes to the first floor. She donated most of her father’s clothes to charity and gave the rest to her male relatives save the few keepsakes she wanted: a leather cap, his university sweatshirt, and a pocket watch with a family photo on the inside. 

She did the same for her mother’s things, keeping only a few items of clothing, her university sweatpants, her jewelry and perfume. The books and all the rest were packed up a long with a few other things that he didn’t recognize and the piano that took up the second den, but rather than moving it to Grimmauld Place, she packed everything she wanted in a satchel she had extended and left the house. All the other furniture remained where it was and within a few hours she had officially moved into a converted wizarding flat that was at least twice the size of the one Ronald lived in a nice section of London not too far from the Ministry. 

The first thing she unpacked was the piano, pulling it from her pocket and restoring it to its proper size in the center of the flat. Draco and Harry stood in the flat with her as she unpacked with skillful flicks of her wand. Once it was all done, Draco released Crookshanks to wander their new home.

“Take out?” Harry offered. 

She grinned at him, “Absolutely.”


	4. What If I’m Weak?

Harry walked into her living room. It was early enough in the morning that she might have been asleep but Hermione was always punctual and they had breakfast plans. He smelled something that made him think of holding her close, the scent of her hair, maybe, twined with something a little earthier that he didn’t recognize. 

“Hermione?” He called softly and wandered through the flat. The only place he didn’t check was the bathroom where the scent seemed to be coming from. He drew his wands before opening the door slowly. 

Crookshanks looked up at him from his place on the bathroom floor beside her, curled up. The room smelled like she’d maybe spilled a bottle of cologne as she lay on the plush rug dressed in a long sleep shirt. Her face tear-stained and hair wild around her head in tightly coiled spirals. The bathtub was half full and probably cold. 

Harry’s heart ached as he kneeled beside her and stroked her hair. 

“ _ Mum, _ ” she whispered, “ _ Dad? _ ”

She sniffled and more tears rolled down her face. Harry shook his head and lifted her from the ground as gently as possible. She startled, aiming up at his face with the heel of her palm and kicking down to get free. He dodged her hand and caught her by her wrists until her eyes focused on his face. 

“H-Harry?”

“Hello, Hermione,” he said.

She looked around and took a deep breath before trying to step out of his hold. He pulled her closer and squeezed her to his chest with a kiss to her temple. 

“You don’t have to,” Harry said, “We don’t have to go anywhere, okay, Supergirl?”

She sniffled again and buried her face in his chest. His shirt grew hot and wet as she trembled in his arms.

“ _ Harry. _ ”

“I’m here, Hermione,” Harry said, “Always.”

She gasped trying to fight the sobbing, but it came, ripping out of her as a pained yell. It sounded the way his heart felt watching Sirius fall through the Veil. She clung to him, sobbing into his chest as he held her. Soon, Draco appeared in the doorway, wand out and nervous until his eyes fell on them. He tucked his wand away and his silver eyes softened as Harry scooped her into his arms, sobbing. She clung to him, not fighting the idea of being carried anywhere. Draco closed the floo wards, fed Crookshanks and undressed enough to lie in bed with her, holding her while Harry shrugged out of his robes. 

She cried herself to sleep and they stayed up bracketing her between their bodies. 

“Too strong for her own good,” Draco cursed and looked up at him, “She will never admit it, but at least she's mourning now.”

Harry shook his head and sat up, twisting her hair into a thick braid, “No, she won’t.”

Their eyes met over her head as Draco tucked the blanket around her gently. He knew what it was like to be in Draco’s arms after a bad day, glad that some amount of comfort could come for the young woman who was always there with a smile for him. 

“Harry,” Draco said softly. 

Their eyes met and he saw in Draco’s eyes a question he had never thought to ask. Harry glanced down at Hermione and back up to Draco. His eyes still held the same question and Harry felt his cheeks burn. Hermione shifted with a murmur. 

“ _ Harry?”  _

“I’m here.”

She hummed and turned her face into Draco’s chest, “You smell like Draco.”

“That is because you are smelling me,” Draco said softly.

Hermione lifted her head and then lowered it curling close, “Harry’s right. You’re a good pillow.”

Draco’s lips twitched, “I’m glad. You need to eat something.”

She groaned softly, “No.”

“French toast?” Harry offered, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to resist it.

“Cheater,” she murmured, “Okay.”

“I’ll get it,” Harry said and got out of bed.

“Thank you for loaning your pillow,” Hermione said. 

“Any time,” Draco said meeting Harry’s eyes.

He worried his lip and walked out, “I’ll be back.”

He didn’t hear anything from her but knew that Draco wasn’t going to let the question go unanswered. They were going to talk about it, and the more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t find a reason that it was impossible other than worrying about Hermione being receptive to it.

When he returned, Hermione and Draco were up and debating a novel that Harry had never read and he simply told them that breakfast was waiting for them. 

“Later,” they said before going back to their argument. He had no idea who was winning, but he was glad that there was a bit of life in her eyes. 

Maybe, it wasn’t a bad idea. Now, wouldn’t be the time to bring it up, but they would have plenty of time while slowly coaxing her back into herself to be sure about it.

Harry turned as they came out of the bedroom. Draco glowered and Hermione beamed at him. 

“Seems like Hermione won.”

Hermione gave him a smirk, “Was there a question that I wouldn’t?”

Harry laughed, “I have no comment.”

They both pouted at him and Harry put up his hands and turned, his cheeks burning. Draco’s pout turned into the hint of a sly smirk as he turned away. 

“Food is still hot if you’re interested.”

Harry doubted that either of them heard him, but he was almost glad that Draco could pull her out of her dark cloud. 

Especially if Draco, He-Who-Refused-To-Take-No, was planning what he thought he was planning.


End file.
